Loving the Enemy
by Psychedelica
Summary: An unhealthy obsession. Valguine. *INDEFINITE HIATUS*


**Yeah, yeah. I know some of you guys might object to this pairing, but stick with it! You might grow to love it! I've got big plans for this fic . . .**

**Disclaimer (applies to all chapters because I just know I'll forget to put this on them!): Me + the rights to Skulduggery Pleasant = BIG NONO. Derek Landy + SP = YES.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Falling<strong>

Valkyrie Cain was in love for the first time, but she wasn't allowed to tell a soul. Nobody bar her reflection knew about her unhealthy obsession, not even the man himself.

Yes, that's right. _Man._ God only knew how old he actually was, despite his youthful features and boyish charm. Sure, Valkyrie was sixteen-going-on-seventeen – perfectly legal age – but this guy must have at least a century under his belt.

Valkyrie groaned, pulling her pillow over her head to block out the unwanted thoughts and images that plagued her in the night-time. She must have gone over the same memory a thousand times before, but tonight she went over it again, this time with a fine-toothed comb.

They had travelled all the way to America for this particular case – her, Skulduggery, Tanith, Ghastly and Fletcher. Once they found the cause of the killings and annihilated the hoard of zombies threatening most of the Boston area, they still had fifteen hours to kill before their flight.

Tanith and Ghastly went off together – the fact that they were a couple was no secret among the magicking world. As Skulduggery had said, they certainly made a cute couple. They hadn't even been dating a year and already they bickered incessantly like an old married couple.

Skulduggery himself had heard rumours of his old friend Dexter Vex being sighted in the area. Vex had been a member of the Dead Men during the War, and Skulduggery spoke fondly of him – the way Valkyrie spoke of her little sister Hannah. Valkyrie knew Skulduggery was really going to look for his friend when he said he needed to run some errands.

_Fletcher. _Fletcher had been acting odd recently. He and Valkyrie had stopped seeing each other six months ago – a mutual agreement – but he'd been acting strangely before that. Valkyrie left him watching old _'Simpsons' _reruns in the hotel room, and headed across the street to a quiet pub.

"Orange juice and lemonade please," she ordered her standard drink. She handed over a ten dollar bill, collected the change, and went to sit at an empty table.

When she was younger – maybe thirteen or fourteen – she and Tanith would sit in pubs and pick out cute guys, making up stories about their hobbies and skills. It was only when these talks began to get a little too dirty that Tanith put her foot down and ended the weekly game. Valkyrie missed times like that, back when she thought the world was made of magic and rainbows and unicorns and lollipops. Heck, she could even remember the time when vampires sparkled, instead of ripping off their skin and becoming lightning-fast predators!

She shook her head to clear out the nostalgic thoughts. There was a cute blonde guy over by the bar that could easily serve as a distraction.

"Hell, why not?" she muttered to herself as she strutted over to the cute guy, inspecting him as she approached.

His sandy blonde hair was beautifully windswept, his skin healthily tanned. He wore a pale-as-pale-can-be blue shirt and brown trousers, a matching jacket draped over his arm. He was knocking back Scotch after Scotch as if depressed about something – or simply bored. Valkyrie could tell as she got closer and closer that he was incredibly handsome – not to mention that perfectly toned body. Strangely, though, despite the dim pub, he was wearing a pair of dark . . .

_Holy-mother-of-_

"_Sanguine?"_ she asked incredulously.

The Texan hitman twisted on the barstool and spotted Valkyrie. He leant back in surprise, clamouring for his straight razor.

Panicking at how public they were – this was a mortal pub after all – Valkyrie reached out and grasped the back of his hand, pressing it to the bar.

Neither of them spoke.

His hand – Valkyrie noticed – was surprisingly warm. He smelt of cologne, but it wasn't unpleasant. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, despite having a razorblade at his fingertips. She could hear his every breath, and felt herself unconsciously lean in.

Realising who it was sat before her, she dropped his hand and took a step back, as if electrocuted.

"It's not Ireland," she breathed, her heart doing things she was pretty certain it had never done before, "so I won't kill you. Remember my promise, though. You plus Ireland equals dead." She realised she had placed a finger on his chest at the word '_you' _and hadn't removed it.

Sanguine bowed his head and gently brushed her hand away, sending goosebumps up her arm. He grinned his 1000-kilowatt smile, showing off those perfectly white, straight teeth. "I wouldn't dream of it, darlin'," he drawled. "I'm happy stayin' here in the good ol' US of A, so why don't we pretend we never saw each other and get on with our lives?"

Valkyrie nodded without saying a word. Sanguine placed a hefty sum of cash on the counter, stood up and left, saluting her as he went.

Valkyrie needed a chair.

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><p><strong>Just setting the scene xD<strong>

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